


Dust Motes

by mooseisloose237



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Good Cows (The Magnus Archives), Lazy Mornings, M/M, Mornings, No beta we die like archival assistants, Season/Series 04 Spoilers, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sleepy Cuddles, like not really but just in case, love is stored in the sleepy jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25080985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooseisloose237/pseuds/mooseisloose237
Summary: "Like most mornings thus far, Martin awakes slowly, lying in bed while the world trickles in."One morning in the safehouse. Featuring cuddles, tea, and sleepy Jon.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/ Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 258





	Dust Motes

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first TMA fic, but I really just wanted to write some soft jonmartin, so... yeah. I wrote this. Hope you like it!

Like most mornings thus far, Martin awakes slowly, lying in bed while the world trickles in.

His ears awake first, filling with the soft groans of the cabin as it settles around him. Beyond its walls come the soft rustles of grass, slowly moving in the soft breeze. He shifts, the bed creaks, and the sounds continue on.

Feeling begins to seep into his limbs, along with the warmth that entangles them. He moves toward it, snuggling closer and wrapping his arms around it. Satisfied, he opens his eyes and takes in the room around him.

The first thing he notices is Jon, pressed up to his chest. His face looks young and open, the creases that have accumulated over the years softened and smoothed. His silver-streaked hair lays spread on the pillow, Martin's fingers tangled in it as if he fell asleep playing with it. Jon's chest moves slowly up and down, and Martin can hear the soft snores that escape his lips.

Martin lifts his gaze upward to examine the rest of the room. Pale sunlight dances across the bed, creeping in through the small gap in the curtains. Small bits of dust drift in and out of the beams, twirling in a way that makes Martin feel awfully poetic. Beyond the foot of the bed, he sees the door, cracked open enough to allow a view of the rest of the cottage, filled with warm light and soft shadows.

It was moments like this that filled Martin with a new kind of happy. It wasn’t the quick flash of pride that that would occasionally come during his first year at the archives and he would finally do something right. It wasn’t the sharp relief mixed with concern when Jon stumbled back into the archives after his absences, scarred and scared. It wasn't the joy that flooded his system when he finally found out what Jon’s lips felt like against his own. No, this happiness was quiet, gentle; it would sit in his stomach glowing warmly as the days passed by. He’d watch Jon wake up and it would glow; he'd make the pair of them tea and it would glow; Jon would point out an especially good cow and it would glow; he'd look at Jon and it would glow. It was a soft happiness, all caused by the man lying next to him, and this small island of happiness they’d managed to build on the chaos of their past.

Martin is interrupted from his reflections by the movement of Jon in his arms. He looks over in time to see the smaller man slowly open his eyes, and turn their bleary gaze towards him. Martin gazes at him a moment, allowing a fond smile to stretch across his face.

“Morning love,” he says, quickly planting a soft kiss against his forehead. Jon grumbles in return but stretches forward a bit to accept the affection. “Are you ready to get up?”

In response, Jon pushes his face into Martin’s chest, continuing to grumble. Martin laughs and wraps his arms tighter around him. 

“Someone’s grumpy this morning,” Martin teases as Jon struggles even closer. This no longer surprises him, though it certainly had in the beginning; Martin had assumed that Jon’s previous avoidance of sleep meant he was an early riser. Jon has quickly proven this false and often had to be dragged out of bed with promises of tea.

This morning appeared to be no different; Jon continued to burrow into Martin, pulling the thick quilt around them like a cocoon. Martin chuckled, and shifted until he surrounded Jon, feet tucked beneath him and chin on his head.

They continued to lay like this, basking in the soft glow that enveloped the room. Martin continued to watch Jon: the way his chest rose softly in time with each breath, the way his silver streaks glinted in the low light; the way his mouth twinged upward every time Martin brushed a kiss against his nose. 

Martin knew they had to get up at some point; despite their lack of real jobs, they still had things to do. They owed a call to Basira today, to ask for updates of the archives. Martin had also wanted to try more baking, though he wasn't sure quite what just yet; still, it would require a walk to the small grocery store in the nearby village. He continued to bask in the warmth for just a bit longer, before finally deciding to get a start on the day.

He propped himself on one elbow, pressing another quick kiss to Jon’s temple. “I really think we ought to get up at this point,” he suggested softly.

Jon grumbled as Martin sat up, hands clinging to his shirt. Martin laughed, kissing each knuckle before climbing fully out of bed. Jon quickly curled up, trying to absorb whatever warmth Martin left behind. 

“I was thinking, we should try getting up early one of these days! You know, take a walk while the sun rises, make some pancakes, that sort of thing.”

Something that sounded like “no” emerged from the crumpled quilt and Martin chuckled, the ball of warmth in his stomach glowing. 

“Well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I’m going to go make tea for myself. If you can stand to pull yourself out of that little cave you built for yourself, I might be able to make some for you too.” Martin then slipped on his slippers before padding his way into the tiny kitchen.

As he readies the tea, Martin continues to ponder. He never could have imagined being here, in a tiny cottage in Scotland, making tea for not only himself, but Jonathan Sims: the man he crushed on, fussed over, pushed away, but now, finally, loved, and was loved by in return. Sure, he had dreamed, but those had been just that: dreams, meant to relieve himself from the loneliness that had at one point consumed his life. But now, here he was, living it, and it was better than he ever could have imagined. 

He hears a shuffling noise around him, and turns.

Jon stands at the entrance to the tiny kitchen, the quilt from the bed wrapped around him like a cape. He still looks half asleep, hair messy and tangled, and half-closed. But then he looks at Martin and smiles. Martin glows.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know if you see any mistakes. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. If you want to chat you can find @mooseisloose237 on tumblr! Have a great day, evening, whatever time it is for you. Just have a great life. You deserve it :)


End file.
